Connections
by jazwriter
Summary: This is for Punky's Valentine's Day Exchange on LJ. I was given Willowezra and her request: Crossover with Harry Potter must have Miranda/Andy pairing everything else up to writer. Can involve any other characters from either fandom. Bonus points if include Minerva/Hermione pairing. Allrighty then! At a reader's suggestion, I also used an idea based off the movie In Your Eyes.
1. Prologue

**Connections**

**Author's Note**: This is for Punky's Valentine's Day Exchange. I was given Willowezra and her request: **Crossover with Harry Potter must have Miranda/Andy pairing everything else up to writer. Can involve any other characters from either fandom. Bonus points if include Minerva/Hermione pairing. **Allrighty then! I also was given an idea by a wonderful reader. I do not remember who, unfortunately. If you are reading this, please let me know so I can give proper credit. The idea is to base a story off of the movie **_In Your Eyes_**. Check it out.

**Author's Note, too**: I have taken some liberties: The timelines for HP and DWP do not sync easily, so I may have bent them to suit the story's needs. That said, I tried to stay as true to those timelines as much as possible. Also, Andy never worked for Miranda, and Miranda was not the EIC for _Runway_. Miranda is twice divorced, and she has no children (sorry Caroline and Cassidy lovers!).

**Betas are awesome!** Please spare a moment or three to give silent thanks and praise to some wonderful individuals— akasarahsmom (GinStan), shesgottaread, and peetsden for their support and kind words while I pulled out my hair and worried about writing this crossover. Let me know what you think of it if you are so inclined.

**Disclaimers**: I was going to write a really technical, legal version here about how I am not earning any money off of this story and am merely offering it for entertainment value, protected by the fair use doctrine (in a much more impressive format, of course); forget that—you all know. Plus, I'm a real piss-ant, so if you are the owner of the characters, books, movies—whatever—and want to sue me, go ahead and try. Bring it on. I have a law degree, and I'm not afraid to use it.

**Oh yeah**—I do not own _Harry Potter_, any of the characters associated with the books, movies, audiotapes, video games, theme park, knick-knacks, assorted sundry, or wands (except for the one I bought at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter this summer—oddly, it doesn't work). Same applies for _The Devil Wears Prada._

**Pairing**: Miranda Priestly and Andrea Sachs; Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger

**Rating**: M/NC-17

1995

Prologue

Andy sat at her desk, staring at her English teacher as she lectured about proper sentence structure. She could hardly wait until class ended so she could meet her friends for lunch. School food of course sucked, but she didn't care since she had money to buy a Philly cheesesteak after school. Not that she lived in Philadelphia. Nope. She lived in suburban Ohio, but it was okay. Safe enough. Fun enough. She had good friends, interesting teachers, parents who weren't divorced. And, even though she was only in middle school, her parents trusted her to walk home after school by a certain time or to call them if she was going to be really late. They gave her enough time to stop at the local sub shop or to stay at school for extra help from her teachers, not that she needed it. She was a smart girl, and she did not abuse their trust. Much.

She shot a smile toward her best friend, Lily, when she heard her name whispered. Looking down, she saw Lily kick a note over to her. As it slid to a stop near her feet, she bent to retrieve it, stopping suddenly as a feeling of fear washed over her. Sitting back up quickly, note forgotten, Andy swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She gripped the far corners of her desk to brace herself for ...something. Squeezing so hard that her fingers turned white, Andy stared sightlessly straight ahead, seeing a large black phantom form in front of her eyes. It hovered before her, black holes for eyes and a wide open maw. Andy felt cold, terribly cold, and she held on even more tightly, causing her desk to shake as the phantom came closer. And closer. The coldness overwhelmed her, and she screamed, feeling her soul being sucked out of her, swallowed into that horrible, gaping, toothless mouth. She could vaguely hear people shouting in the background, but all she could see was black. All black. And she fell and fell and fell into those awful, bottomless eyes until she reached aching, blessed nothingness.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Twenty Years Later

A message landed on Miranda's desk, and she sighed with exasperation. Truly, the bureaucracy at the Ministry was boundless. Why she continued to work for the Department of Mysteries was beyond her. She must have suffered a moment of weakness when that sniveling, spineless Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had requested she take the post so long ago. She had agreed, though, because being the department head for brain studies gave her access to research on the brain—its power, its vast reserves, its uncharted, boundless riches, just begging to be explored. For years she had conducted studies, hired the top wizards and witches to study different parts of the brain, and mapped the interconnectedness and redundancies which sparked magic and connections and memories.

Two years ago, the present Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had asked her to leave her post to become the head of the Unspeakables division. She had graciously declined, he had tenaciously pursued, and eventually he'd won her over by promising she would still have access to the brain studies. If she had known what she was agreeing to, nothing and no one would have convinced her to leave her lab. She spent more time filling out forms and reviewing reports than she cared to entertain. Smiling bitterly, she took off her glasses, slowly rubbing the end of the earpiece over her lower lip contemplatively. She was ready for a change.

A well-known Scottish female voice interrupted her frustrated musings. "Is this a bad time, Miranda?"

Looking over at the activated fireplace, Miranda smiled at the fiery visage of the esteemed headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Not at all. Your presence is most welcome," Miranda answered as she placed her spectacles over the report she was working on.

"I wanted to update you on the latest information I received this morning on the remaining Deatheaters we have been tracking. May I come over now, or would you prefer to schedule a later time?" Minerva asked politely.

"Now is fine. Please come in and save me from this mountain of paperwork, if only for a few moments," Miranda entreated her with a smirk.

A chuckle preceded the stately woman as she walked through green flames and uttered a spell to remove the floo powder. Miranda rose, and they met in the middle for a friendly embrace. A small smile inched across Miranda's face without permission, and she gazed into twinkling emerald eyes as she squeezed Minerva's forearms affectionately.

"Miranda. It is lovely to see you," Minerva said as she moved toward the visitors' chairs in front of the ornately-carved ebony desk.

"And you. It has been too long," Miranda responded before sending a note down to the kitchens for tea. "We haven't seen each other since the Minister's Ball when you stared at Hermione Granger with so much hunger, I feared you imagined her to be the rarest of roast beefs," Miranda teased. She watched with much amusement as a flush traveled up Minerva's throat and across her pale cheeks.

"Oh, posh!" Minerva sputtered. "You are being ridiculous! I wish I had never confided in you, you insufferable woman!"

Chuckling, Miranda said, "Oh, Minerva, calm down. You know your secret is safe with me, but I do so wish you would express your feelings to her. She lights up whenever she is with you. Even when she hears your name mentioned. I should know; I've watched her at the Ministry department head meetings. Before you panic, however, I should add that she is subtle; no one who wasn't watching for her reactions would know."

"Don't tease me, Miranda. False hope could be my death knell. I couldn't survive the embarrassment if I revealed my affection and she rebuffed me," Minerva said morosely.

"Rebuffed you? Don't be absurd. She is head over heels in love with you! You can't tell me that sharing boring evenings consisting of tea and chess once a month is enough for you. At least give her the opportunity to become closer to you. Open up. Invite her to do something that you would not normally share with others. Or better yet, invite her out for Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's Day?! That's it. You're positively bamy. You must be allowing your former department to conduct studies on your addled brain," Minerva groused.

"She couldn't keep her eyes off you at the ball. And when you took her in your arms for that dance, she looked euphoric," Miranda continued, enjoying Minerva's reactions.

"Don't be daft. At most, she admires me, views me as her mentor, perhaps after so many years of boring evenings," Minerva repeated Miranda's sarcastic words, "she even thinks of me as a friend. I do not want to risk the closeness we have developed."

Miranda shook her head, thoroughly disappointed by her friend's unwillingness to take a chance. Minerva could be so immovable when her feelings were on the line. Not that Miranda was much better when she felt vulnerable. It was a miracle that they were such close friends. War had a way of removing walls, though, and forging lifelong connections.

They had saved each other's lives several times during the First Wizarding War. And even during the Second Wizarding War, they had found themselves back-to-back during several skirmishes leading up to Voldemort's defeat. Since the day Voldemort died, they had tracked many of Voldemort's followers, rounding them up one by one at a glacial pace. Only a few were still unaccounted for, and Miranda assumed Minerva's visit was about those still on the run.

Miranda leaned forward, catching her old comrade's eyes with her own gaze. "I just want to see you happy, Minerva. We all deserve it. Especially you. You have dedicated yourself to others, given up so much. And she cares for you. At least think about it. Really think about it instead of dismissing it so easily. Promise me that, at least."

Watching Minerva's internal struggle, Miranda pushed down her natural impatience as she waited for the stubborn witch to answer.

"Very well. I will put some honest thought into it, search my soul as it were," Minerva said in a resigned voice. "Now, as for my true reason for coming here," she said as she opened a folder full of paperwork. "We have tracked Johnson and McClellen to their stronghold on Stac an Dunain, an island just north of Cape Wrath." She pointed to Northern Scotland highlands on a map she opened. "It is inaccessible by land, and one must take a boat. Potter is checking to see whether we can apparate close to where they are and use our brooms to finish the journey. I suspect he will be contacting you soon to coordinate their infiltration and capture. They are the last two Deatheaters at large. I, for one, am looking forward to closing the book on Voldemort's reign of terror, as it were."

With a shout as pain rippled through her, Miranda fell off her chair. Another sharp pain lanced through her, and she raised her hand to her jaw, expecting to feel blood or swelling or more pain. When she felt nothing, she lowered her hand to her ribs, from where the first sharp pain had emanated. The pain lessened, and she raised confused eyes to Minerva, who crouched next to her. "I'm fine." She accepted Minerva's help to rise, and they sat in silence as Miranda regained her equilibrium.

"I haven't seen that happen to you in years," Minerva said softly.

"It wasn't the same," Miranda murmured as she took stock of what had just occurred. "It felt if as someone had punched me in the ribs and then across the jaw. In the past, such occurrences felt like falling or tripping or just general klutziness."

"And you've never found out why this keeps happening?" Minerva asked with a concerned voice.

"No. I've spent my life researching this connection, but it remains a mystery," Miranda answered.

"And of course you have not shared this with anyone else," Minerva said acerbically.

"Don't be ridiculous. I would be locked up in St. Mungo's, and my former subordinates would take great pleasure in studying me," Miranda scoffed.

"Well, if it is still occurring after all these years, then the connection remains. You share a bond with someone."

"I know where you are going with this, Minerva, and I assure you it is nothing like the connection Voldemort and Potter had shared. This is much different. And before you say it, I know what it feels like to have my mind invaded. We were both trained to detect such invasions and to protect ourselves from it. This feels much different," Miranda said as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. The pain had subsided, but the memory of those few painful moments stayed with her. She had seen a fist, felt it hitting her flesh, experienced the fear.

"Are you all right, Miranda?" Minerva asked softly.

"Yes," Miranda agreed while staring at the map. They allowed silence to blanket them for a few minutes while Miranda studied the map once more. "I suppose," Miranda said without looking up, "that you want to be part of the team sent for Johnson and McClellen."

"I do," Minerva affirmed softly.

Heaving a sigh, Miranda nodded slightly. "Very well. I will be in contact with you after I speak with Potter." She looked up. "Is he still close with Hermione?"

"Very," Minerva answered cautiously, causing Miranda to smirk.

"Hmm. Interesting. And the third of the Golden Trio? Weasley? If I remember correctly, he is also an Auror with Potter," Miranda continued as she leaned back and steepled her fingers together in front of her.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Miranda! What are you getting at? Yes, the three are still as thick as thieves. Ronald and Harry were each other's best man at their weddings, and Hermione was beautiful as a bridesmaid at each affair," Minerva said.

"No doubt she would look even more beautiful as your bride," Miranda stated, a wicked gleam in her eye.

With a bark of laughter, Minerva rose. "And with that last thought, I will take my leave." Before she stepped into the green flames, Minerva eyed Miranda and said softly, "You deserve to be happy, too."

"And yet all I attract are men who cheat on me and resent the number of hours I dedicate to my job. I think not," Miranda sadly. She had married twice, and both had found other beds to warm. The first one died during the second war, and the second moved in with his lover and started a family. They had two children and by all accounts were very happy.

"Don't give up, my dear. I still believe there is someone waiting in the wings for you. It may not be a man, though."

Smiling slightly, Miranda answered, "Man or woman, I haven't given up, Minerva. I live on hope." She watched her closest friend leave, sparing another minute to think of that elusive presence she always felt around her. Wondering if it was somehow connected to her earlier episode. Wondering if perhaps that was the person waiting in the wings.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Hearing his breathing even out as he succumbed to his alcohol-induced sleep, Andy carefully extracted herself from Nate's possessive grip and inched out of bed. Soundlessly, she crossed the bathroom and closed the door before turning on the light. Gasping, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her jaw pulsed with pain, discolored and slightly swollen from the beating she had received while interviewing an informant of a drug cartel for a ground-breaking feature. Her ribs also ached, but nothing was broken, just bruised.

Studying her face in the mirror, she acknowledged that she was lucky to be alive. She should not have agreed to meet him in a deserted warehouse late at night by herself. Although she trusted him, he was a target, one the drug cartel was keen to capture. If the police hadn't been monitoring their meeting...Andy shivered.

Of course, Nate had taken the news poorly. He had argued with her all evening about how she must quit her job at the _New York Mirror_ because it was just too dangerous. Andy knew, though, that he wanted her to quit for several other reasons, too. He hated her long hours and her inability to meet with him and their friends for drinks or a meal. He hated how she had become more worldly and independent. He hated how quickly she was rising within her profession while he seemed to have stalled in his.

For a while, she tried to remain the same old Andy, the one who made fun of the establishment, the fakes, the powerful politicians and the shallow celebrities. Yet, she had learned over the course of ten years, the length of time she had worked at the newspaper, that everything was not black and white, perception was manipulated, and knowledge was not always truth.

Refocusing on her eyes, Andy startled when she saw not her own chocolate-colored eyes but ice-blue ones staring at her in shock. Blinking she looked again and saw a different body superimposed over her own. Looking down, her hands seemed older, longer, and lighter in color. She moved her eyes over the body she saw in front of her. "Gorgeous," she murmured.

Black velvet robes, reminiscent of a graduation gown, covered the woman's body. Her visage was distinctive with a strong chin, flawless porcelain skin, sculptured cheekbones, and short white hair. The forelock hanging over the woman's left eye made her fingers itch to push it aside. It was the eyes, though, those clear blue eyes taking stock in Andy's appearance, which captured her.

"What's happening?" Andy asked

She gasped when she heard a melodious voice say, "I have no idea." Their eyes connected.

"You can hear me?!"

"Yes. And I see you," the woman answered, assessing eyes roaming over Andy's face and torso. "What happened to you?"

"Oh," Andy's hand cupped her sore jaw. "An interview gone wrong," Andy chuckled self-consciously. She fought the urge to cover her body, knowing her thin robin-blue cotton tank top and boyshorts covered little. "Who are you? How can I see you?"

Andy watched as the older woman shook her head and her eyes narrowed. "I know you. I've seen you in my dreams. Flashes over the years. You, ow, is that you? My jaw aches," the woman said as she gingerly touched her jawline just where Andy had been punched.

"You can feel me?" Andy asked incredulously.

"Unfortunately. Can't you take a potion to dull the pain?"

"Potion? You mean medicine? Right. I can take some painkillers," Andy said as she reached into the medicine cabinet. She took a cup and filled it with tap water before swallowing the pills. "I'm Andy. What's your name?" she said as she turned away from the mirror and leaned against the sink. It was too distracting to look into those striking eyes. She saw flashes of a hallway, a door opening, and then a massive desk that held so many interesting, unusual objects that she felt disappointed when her view shifted toward a blazing fire.

"Andy? Isn't that a boy's name?"

Hearing the contempt in the woman's voice, Andy said, "Well, it's short for Andrea, but everyone calls me Andy."

"Andrea," the woman said slowly, emphasizing the second syllable. "I am Miranda."

Andy crossed her arms and looked down at the ground as she said, "I know you, too. I mean, I've felt you before. And I've seen things that make no sense. I saw —"

A knock on the door interrupted Andy, and she suddenly realized that she'd been talking out loud. "Y-yes?" she answered.

"Who are you talking to?"

Nate's sleepy, irritated voice confirmed her sudden fear that he'd heard her talking.

"No one. Myself. I have some ideas for my next article, and I was just talking it out aloud," Andy answered. He knew she worked best when she could talk an idea through. Hopefully, he'd believe her.

"Andy, come to bed. It's late."

"All right. I'll be right out. Promise," Andy said before turning toward the mirror. Looking into her own eyes, she felt disappointment flow over her. Andy said, "Let's meet tomorrow so we can talk some more. Maybe we can figure out why this has happened. And I'm pretty sure I've experienced some events from your life, too."

"Yes," Miranda agreed. "That would be acceptable. Where are you located?"

"New York City. Where are you?"

"London. I am five hours ahead of you. What time do you suggest?" Miranda asked.

"Well, I have today off, so we can talk after you finish work, if that's convenient. How about eight o'clock your time?" Andy said. She preferred to have the next conversation while Nate was at work.

"Very well. Until then."

"Wait!" Andy nearly shouted, feeling an urgent need to keep talking to this woman. "I, um, that was you twenty years ago. You were afraid, and some huge black ghostie thing came at you and made you feel like you were freezing to death," Andy said, feeling stupid but convinced it wasn't just a hallucination.

"Ghostie thing?" Miranda repeated the words as if she had just picked up a smelly sock. "Ah, you must mean the Dementor attack. I nearly died. Thankfully, Minerva used a Patronus to ward it off."

"Dementor? Patronus?" Andy echoed, not understanding a thing.

"It was during the last war. The beginning of hostilities when Voldemort regained power. Dementors used to guard our prison, Azkaban. Somehow Voldemort was able to obtain their allegiance and use them to attack people who did not support his rise to power. The Patronus is a powerful charm used to protect a person from a Dementor attack," Miranda explained.

"Wait! You must realize this is all a bit much, right? I mean, what war? Twenty years ago I was in middle school, not under a rock, and I think I'd remember if there was a big war happening in England. And who's Vodamoor? I've never heard of him. And this Patronus you mentioned, is it like a necklace or something?" Andy stopped her line of questions as she heard a long-suffering sigh and felt frustration flow through her. "Look, I'm sorry. You're talking about stuff I've never heard of before. Hey! Does that mean you're in the military?"

"Stuff?" Miranda's voice echoed the word with obvious disgust.

"Andy! Come to bed!" Hearing Nate's annoyance, Andy stopped herself from demanding more answers. Having worked as a journalist for so long made her mind run in a thousand directions when she was confronted with a mystery.

"I have to go," Andy said sadly. "We'll talk tomorrow as planned."

"Yes. Until then," Miranda said.

Before Andy could say anything else, she felt the silence from the severance of their link, and she wondered how Miranda was able to do that. She also wondered how they had connected just now. Why now? Those weird visions she had experienced over the years, were those Miranda's dreams or things that actually had happened to her? Andy had so many questions.

Settling into bed next to Nate, she sighed as he pulled her close, spooning her as she closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she envisioned cool blue eyes gazing at her, and she felt comforted.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Rereading the message she had received from Harry by owl this morning, Minerva sighed. Nervousness fluttered through her, settling in her belly as her thoughts moved from the impending capture of the Deatheaters hiding in the Scottish Highlands to seeing Hermione in a few minutes for their weekly chess and tea.

She had thought about yesterday's conversation with Miranda and decided she needed to show her Gryffindor courage by becoming more vulnerable around Hermione. To that end, she decided she would invite Hermione out for Valentine's Day. Not something as cliché as giving Hermione a dozen roses and taking her to some romantic, expensive restaurant in London. She thought too highly of Hermione for such standard fare, although she hoped to have the opportunity to spoil the younger witch with such demonstrations at a later date.

It was well known just how private Minerva was. In fact, many rumors regarding her family, her upbringing, really anything having to do with her personal life, had formed over the years. She laughed at many of the silly fabrications and nursed tears behind closed doors due to some of the more hurtful rumors. People could be ruthless in their quest to know more. Why were people so interested in her, anyway? It was certainly a mystery to her.

Nevertheless, Minerva had decided to share herself with Hermione in the hope that such an act would be interpreted by Hermione in the spirit it was meant. At the least, their friendship would deepen, and at best, Minerva trembled as she dared to think it, they would enter into a romantic relationship. Taking a deep breath to settle herself, Minerva smiled slightly as she heard her staircase activate. That would be Hermione.

A knock on the door filled Minerva's heart with longing, and she took a moment to breathe in the feeling, reminding herself why she was willing to reveal herself to this woman. Looking down, she smoothed her thin, mint-green inner-robe nervously. She had forgone her thick outer robe, believing that removing the outer layer would indicate her willingness to be less formal. Of course, now Hermione would be able to see her form more easily, and Minerva would be able to observe whether she might be interested in her.

"Come in," Minerva called as she walked toward the door. She smiled involuntarily as petite features, short dark hair, and sparkling umber-colored eyes greeted her. Before she could think twice about it, Minerva reached forward and pulled Hermione into a tight hug, heartened to feel arms surround her waist and squeeze back just as firmly. She breathed in Hermione's distinctive scent, vanilla and parchment and something that was unique to her. She felt a purr erupt deep in her throat and smiled with relief when Hermione's response was merely to burrow more firmly into her neck. With one last squeeze, Minerva reluctantly released her, turning away before she kissed that luscious mouth which regularly haunted her dreams.

"How was your week, Hermione?" Minerva asked as she led them to the lounge in front of a roaring fire, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling as she heard the younger witch gasp. She never had called Hermione by her given name, knowing that to do so would mean to invite Hermione to do the same. It was one of her many ways of keeping a distance from others, of not allowing others any type of intimacy, even with people she had known for countless years. She could count on her fingers the number of people allowed to call her Minerva. She was about to add to that number today.

"It's been busy. Exhausting, really," Hermione answered as she sat down on her corner of the lounge. She looked up shyly as Minerva sank down next to her instead of on her side of the couch and handed her a cup of tea just the way she liked it. Their hands brushed as eyes connected. "But now that I'm here, I feel much better, Minerva," she added, her eyes darkening as they flicked over Minerva's body.

Swallowing thickly as a wave of heat rolled through her upon hearing her name uttered a bit breathlessly but oh so reverently, Minerva whispered, "I am glad to hear it, my dear."

Hermione was an extremely intelligent witch. Minerva was sure that she felt the shift between them and interpreted Minerva's very deliberate actions to communicate her wish to be closer. It would be up to the younger witch to indicate her interest before Minerva issued the Valentine's Day invitation. She did have her pride, after all, and she would not do anything to embarrass either of them or to jeopardize their friendship.

"Minerva," Hermione said softly, lithe fingers grazing over her knee.

"Hmmm?" Minerva hummed as she locked eyes with Hermione's mesmerizing gaze. She loved the way Hermione said her name, her voice caressing each syllable. She could easily become addicted to it. She lifted a brow in question as she watched Hermione take a deep breath, determination sparking through her eyes. "Do you have any plans for this Saturday?"

Smiling coyly, Minerva placed her tea cup on the side table to the right of Hermione, effectively surrounding the attractive witch with her body as she gently took Hermione's cup and also placed it aside. That done, she dared to lean more into Hermione's personal space so that she could feel Hermione's breathing speed up, basking in the little puffs of air gracing her lips. "This Saturday?" she asked softly, gazing at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Yes," Hermione answered just as softly as she moved infinitesimally closer.

"I do," Minerva answered, watching closely as Hermione's face dropped with disappointment. Before Hermione could move away, though, she cupped a lovely cheek and added, "I plan to spend Valentine's Day with you, if you are amenable." She allowed her thumb to brush over a full lower lip as she saw understanding light up Hermione's face. She smiled as Hermione puckered her lips, delivering a fleeting kiss to Minerva's thumb. "Is that a yes?" Minerva prodded. As Hermione nodded, Minerva whispered, "Good," and delivered a chaste kiss upon quivering lips, pulling back just enough to gauge Hermione's reaction. Parted, moist lips, rapid breathing, and closed eyes beckoned Minerva back.

Groaning when she felt fingers slide through her bun, dislodging it as their lips met more firmly, Minerva lost herself in learning this woman's intoxicating lips, what made her whimper and moan as they slid their mouths together, changing the angles and pressure, setting off small explosions behind her eyes as their tongues met. Somehow she ended up on her back with Hermione's supple body on top of her as they kissed and kissed and kissed. Minerva explored Hermione's muscular back and slim waist, attempting to not move too fast.

"It's all right," Hermione whispered against her lips, taking one of Minerva's hands and placing it on her breast. "I've hungered for your touch. For years." She pinned Minerva with a look that made Minerva's thighs clench as moisture pooled between them. "I have loved you for so long. I am yours, Minerva."

"You, you love me?" Minerva asked, afraid to believe it but wishing fervently.

"With everything I am," Hermione answered passionately, trailing her lips down Minerva's neck before nibbling on a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear.

Gasping, Minerva kneaded the perky breast in her hand, quickly moving her other hand to palm a shapely behind.

"Minerva. Oh! My apologies for interrupting."

Thoroughly put out by the interruption of their snogging session, Minerva held Hermione firmly against her as she turned her head to see Miranda's fiery visage staring at her from the fireplace.

"Bugger off," Minerva growled. She was not happy to hear Miranda's resulting chuckle.

"I am sorry," Miranda said, her voice sounding sincere, "but we have to finalize plans for the extraction of Johnson and McClellen. Let's all meet tomorrow night at 6:00 PM, my office. Does that work for you, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione said, her face hidden between the couch back and Minerva's throat.

"Pardon?" Miranda asked.

"She said yes, and I will be there, too. Now, sod off," Minerva huffed, her hand skimming through short locks as their breathing slowed.

"Have a good night, then," Miranda said lightly. With that the flames returned to their previous shades of red, orange, and blue.

"I am sorry for the intrusion," Minerva said as she wrapped her arms around Hermione's smaller form. "I should have blocked the fire-calling."

"You couldn't know," Hermione said as she leaned on her forearms and gazed lovingly down at Minerva.

"No. I suppose not. How do you feel about a change in setting?" Minerva asked as her hands began exploring Hermione's enticing body with clear intent.

"Quite. As long as we are together," Hermione said with a smile.

"Now that I have you in my arms, I have no intention of letting you go," Minerva said, her eyes searching Hermione's to see if that made her uncomfortable in any way.

"Brilliant. I am glad to hear it," Hermione answered, leaning in to deliver a toe-curling kiss.

Minerva apparated them into her bedchamber as nimble fingers unbuttoned her robe. "Are you sure this is what you want? That I am who you want?" she asked in a low voice, her hands covering Hermione's to still their movement. "I ask only because my animagus has chosen you as my mate, and I cannot be intimate with you on a casual basis. For me, being with you would be mating for life. It may be better for us to take this more slowly so that you do not regret anything that we do," Minerva said, knowing she was babbling a bit, but desperate to make Hermione understand the possible repercussions.

"Minerva," Hermione said tenderly. "I know. I researched animagus traits long ago. I choose to be with you for as long as you'll have me. It may be a better question to ask whether you are certain. If you need more time, I will accept any affection you are prepared to share with me. I've waited for years. I will wait for however long you need."

Shaking her head, Minerva smiled as her heart filled with love. "You ridiculous, beautiful, irresistible witch. I have loved ye for longer than what 'twas probably appropriate. I never dared to dream ye could return my feelings, but my heart chose you long ago. If you're sure, then I give ye my heart, as I cannae go back to a life without you next to me," she said passionately, her Scottish brogue becoming more pronounced at the thought of having this woman.

"Good thing I have no intention of letting you go now that I know your feelings. Merlin, woman! You could have given me a hint or something. You have no idea how hard it's been to hide my feelings when all I've wanted to do was rip your robes off."

Those words stirred Minerva into action, pulling Hermione down and capturing her swollen lips fervidly, tongue delving through parted lips to taste the younger witch's desire. She made quick work of Hermione's form-fitting slacks and jumper, pulling them off with little fanfare or finesse. She needed to taste her, feel her, mark her. She flipped them as they continued to kiss, shrugging out of her robe once she felt Hermione finish unbuttoning it. She wore only her unmentionables, a matching forest-green set of lingerie she favored.

Pulling back, she raked her eyes over Hermione's exquisite form. Toned muscles, flushed skin, heaving breasts encased in black lace, restless legs, and an unmistakable aroma that Minerva could easily detect with her animagus-enhanced sense of smell. Her mouth watered, and her soul howled with need.

"Make love with me, Minerva. Make me yours. I give myself to you freely," Hermione said, her voice holding a certain gravitas, each word sinking into Minerva powerfully, old magic highlighting her words and engraving them on her soul.

"And I give myself to you," Minerva agreed. Once she uttered the words, a clap of thunder sounded and golden light encapsulated them as they sealed their lives together with a kiss. Smiling at Hermione, Minerva husked, "Old magic. Our souls are connected." Hermione's eyes brimmed with so many emotions: love, desire, awe, acceptance.

They removed the last scraps of cloth they wore before melting into each other, groaning at how heavenly they felt together. The hunger overtook Minerva, and she growled as she kissed her way down Hermione's neck, stalling as she felt her love's pulse beating hard beneath her lips. Sucking on the area, she felt with immense satisfaction Hermione's moans reverberate against her lips. Slowly, she explored each collarbone, nibbling on them and licking the indentations as Hermione gasped and mewled her approval. Moving down, Minerva took a tight bud between her teeth and pulled gently before soothing it with her tongue and sucking strongly.

The noises Hermione made drove Minerva crazy, and she mapped Hermione's ribs and belly with trembling hands as she drew the other breast in her mouth to repeat her ministrations. Feeling Hermione squirm beneath her restlessly, Minerva murmured, "You're so ready for me, aren't you lass? Ready to be mine?" Sliding her lips over slightly damp skin, Minerva moaned at how good she tasted. She licked Hermione's bellybutton, chuckling as Hermione giggled, and nibbled her hipbone before settling between Hermione's legs. Breathing in deeply, Minerva's mouth watered with anticipation.

In that moment, her eyes connecting with Hermione's passionate gaze, Minerva knew her life would never be the same. This woman had defined her in so many ways, gradually shaping her over the years as their relationship had changed and deepened. And today, today she finally had made the leap to fully accepting her feelings, acknowledging them and embracing them. She had decided to open herself to possible rejection by indicating her interest in sharing more than a friendship with Hermione, and by taking that chance, she had found that, impossibly, Hermione returned her feelings.

"I want to taste ye, love. Will ye allow it?" Minerva asked softly.

"Yes. Please, Minerva," Hermione moaned, widening her legs invitingly.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Minerva lowered her mouth and licked firmly from Hermione's weeping opening to her swollen bundle of nerves, moving her hands to splay them across Hermione's lower belly to keep her close. Minerva groaned as Hermione's flavor hit her taste buds. She slowly tasted every part of Hermione's sex, nibbling and licking as she listened to her love's vocal responses. Entering Hermione's opening with her tongue as far as she could, she felt Hermione's body react by squeezing it. Moaning, knowing Hermione was fast approaching her release, Minerva sucked on the bottom of her opening before thrusting her tongue inside more forcefully, repeating the actions while manipulating Hermione's clitoris with her fingers. Tasting Hermione's desire as it flowed over her tongue and dripped on to her chin, Minerva concentrated on how quickly Hermione's body was moving, gyrating against her mouth. Strong fingers weaved through her hair and a keening filled the air moments before Hermione's body bowed above the bed, stiffening as her orgasm took control.

She was beautiful.

Watching avidly as she thrust her tongue slowly inside Hermione several more times, Minerva realized quite forcefully that her unsated body was trembling with desire. Shifting slightly to ease the ache, Minerva tried to refocus on expressing her love and devotion to Hermione in the most fundamental way. She had dreamed of this woman for so many years, hating herself for yearning for the affections from a witch she had believed would never want her in this way. And yet all it had taken was for her to express the slightest interest in wanting to be closer, and Hermione had jumped at the opportunity. To think she had wasted so much time...

A soft hand cupped her jaw, and Minerva realized she was resting her head on a quivering thigh. Tears ran down her face, her hands grasping Hermione's shapely hips as if she were her lifeline.

"Minerva," a soft voice called to her. She allowed Hermione to raise her chin, and she saw worry crease her love's forehead. "Why are you crying?"

"I just, ye are so beautiful. I never dared ta hope ye would want me," Minerva admitted, ashamed that she had broken down during what was the happiest day of her life. "I am sorry, lass. I'm an old, emotional fool, it seems."

"No," Hermione said. "You are nothing of the sort. You are the love of my life, and there is nothing wrong with allowing yourself to feel. Besides," she ran her hand down Minerva's throat and rested it on her shoulder. "I very much do want you." She pulled on Minerva's shoulders, indicating her wish for Minerva to join her.

As Minerva hovered over the younger witch, strong thighs wrapped around her waist and full lips took one of her breasts into her mouth. Gasping at how erotic Hermione looked as she hungrily sucked her nipple, one hand holding it in place, Minerva moved against her, grinding against the woman who drove her crazy. She lost herself in the sensations, giving herself over entirely to Hermione's desire to bring her pleasure. Moving against Hermione with focused intent, she moaned loudly as Hermione switched to tasting her other breast, the cool air tingling against the wetness left on her recently attended-to one.

"Hermione, luv, I need ye so," Minerva muttered breathlessly, speeding up as she felt pressure building between her legs. She nearly jumped when determined fingers played with her wetness, hovering at her opening. She understood what Hermione was asking. "Yes, Hermione, please yes! I need ye, Gràdh."

Hermione entered her smoothly, chewing on her nipple gently while thrusting forcefully. Minerva picked up the rhythm, her body singing as it readied for release. Looking down, their eyes locked just as Hermione flicked her thumb against her engorged clit. Minerva's eyes slammed shut as she yowled, her body thrumming as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her. Leaning in, Minerva licked at the crux of Hermione's neck and shoulder before sucking on it forcefully. She felt the blood rushing underneath her lips, tasted the salt of perspiration, smelled the result of their lovemaking. Her animagus howled, demanded she stake her claim, and before she could restrain herself, she bit Hermione, hard enough that the copper taste of blood filled Minerva's mouth.

Immediately, she licked at the wound, panicking at the thought that she might have gone too far, but she felt strong fingers holding her close, not allowing her to pull away.

"That's right; you've marked me, love. I am yours. All yours. No one else will have me this way. I have waited so many years for you. You branded my heart long ago, and now you have made me yours, marked me, branded me, taken me even as I have gratefully received your love, your body, your soul," Hermione whispered into Minerva's ear. "I will never let you go. You gave me your heart, and I will cherish it, protect it, and love it."

Kissing the love bite, the animalistic bite her animagus urged her to make to stake her claim and mark Hermione as her mate, Minerva said in a hoarse voice, "Aye, ye are mine, and I am yours. And I won't be denied your love any longer. If you wish I will leave Hogwarts and live with ye in London or wherever ye wish, or ye can move into the castle with me. I will even retire as headmistress if that is what it takes, but I will nay live another day without ye lying next to me. I have staked my claim, and although it may be primitive, my animagus traits demanded it of me."

"Minerva, please do not believe you did anything wrong. This is the best day of my life. I love you so much. And we will figure out what will work best for us, but right now rest assured that yesterday was the last night you will experience sleeping by yourself." Hermione smiled widely. "Now, I hope you aren't too tired," she murmured as her hands began to wander over Minerva, whose back muscles flexed under talented fingers. "As we have years to make up for."

Minerva felt happiness swell up, lodging in her throat before she smiled broadly. "Aye, that we do, Gràdh. That we do." She captured Hermione's lips in a fierce kiss. The details they would figure out later. She felt their connection pulse between them, and she gave in to the blissful feeling without resistance.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Miranda entered her home and sighed as she took off her outer robe. It was nine o'clock at night, and she was certain that she had disappointed Andrea by not keeping their appointment. It seemed absurd that she even cared, but she did. Immensely. Now that she could put a name and face to these feelings she had experienced intermittently throughout the last twenty years, she was anxious to learn more about their connection. She realized that she had always felt safe and not alone. Perhaps that had something to do with her careless attitude toward her former husbands when they had sought love outside their bed. Even then, she had not felt entirely alone or abandoned.

And yet she had treated her agreed upon appointment with Andrea with the same lackadaisical attitude she had applied to her other relationships. Only she was acutely aware that she was interested. Intrigued. Astounded by their connection. Perhaps she was self-sabotaging herself. Denying herself the answers she had sought for so long.

Squeezing the bridge of her nose, Miranda sat down on her favorite overstuffed chair and thought of Andrea, allowing herself to lower the wall she had hastily thrown up between them last night after they had concluded their conversation. Andrea's presence in her mind was different than the feeling she got when she guarded against legilimency by practicing occlumency. Andrea was not an outside force attempting to read her feelings and thoughts, or even worse, influence them. She was a part of Miranda, and it scared her more than she cared to admit. Yet, as much as it scared her, it also comforted her. And that revelation scared her even more.

Feeling Andrea's presence in her mind, she said, "I apologize for my tardiness. I was detained in a meeting." She had not thought the meeting would take more than an hour, but they had needed to firm up not just the travel arrangements to the Deatheaters' hideout, but also their plans on how to apprehend them when they tried to escape.

"It's okay. I figured something happened. But I didn't feel any danger, so it's fine."

"Do you mean to say you have felt when I was in trouble?" Miranda asked.

"Well, yeah. I mean I felt it when you were faced with that, um, soul-eating dementie-thing, and I've felt other times, too, like when you had got hit with something in your chest and it felt like lightning had struck you. It was a few years after the other thing; I think it was 1998. I remember it was in May, or maybe it was the end of April, but I was at my first formal dance, and all of a sudden I was on the floor, floundering around like a fish out of water while all my nerves were on fire. It lasted for what felt like forever, but I guess it was only a few seconds. It took days for my body to stop hurting. The doctors claimed I had suffered a seizure, but they never determined what had caused it."

Miranda sat in stunned silence, processing what she had just learned. "I was hit with a Crutiatus curse by a Deatheater, one of Voldemort's followers. It is a killing curse, and extremely painful. The person who attacked me was taken by surprise, and thankfully that ended the connection. I am sorry you experienced it," Miranda said softly.

"Deatheater? That's a pretty dramatic name for a gang. And curse? You mean like magic? 'Cause last night you spoke of a charm, and I thought you just meant jewelry. But, the more we talk, the more I get the feeling that we are from two entirely separate worlds. I should be freaking out. I should be considering that maybe I really am crazy. I mean, you could be a figment of my imagination. Not that I have that good of an imagination. I'd certainly be making more money as a writer if I did instead of being just a newspaper journalist."

"Stop it. My god! Must you babble so much? And desist with your self-castigation. You are a talented writer. I read some of your articles today. Not to mention you have written articles for several of the top periodicals in the world. So enough of such insecurities. I am not a figment of your imagination. You are not crazy. We are, in a sense, from two different worlds. Normally, I would not share this with a Muggle, but this is a special situation."

"What's a Muggle?" Andrea asked. Miranda could feel her curiosity, and she smiled slightly.

"A Muggle is you, someone who is not magical. We have very strict laws about not telling Muggles about our abilities. However, we are connected in such a way that keeping my society and my abilities a secret from you is unfeasible." Miranda sighed. "You must not tell others, though, Andrea. They will not believe you."

"I, yeah, okay. It's hard for me to believe, you know? And trying to match up all these memories of things that you have experienced and I felt, it's hard to accept. And I remember more than just the times when you got hurt. I remember other strong emotions, other times when you were really upset or really happy," Andrea said.

"Well, you aren't alone in that. I have several memories, too." Miranda went through her mental catalog of different experiences she had felt over the years, memories she knew she had not created in her own life.

"You do? Like what?"

"Hmmm, well, about ten years ago I recall you were extremely happy. I saw flashes of people wearing black robes, much like what I wear. And a funny flat headpiece with colored cords hanging from it."

"That must have been the day I graduated from college! I was so proud." Andrea said excitedly. "And you know perfectly well that I was wearing a graduation gown and cap with the tassels on it! Stop acting like you don't know anything about Muggles," Andrea said with a grin.

Miranda merely smirked but said nothing.

"If only my parents could have been there," Andrea added softly.

Melancholy flowed through Miranda, and she tilted her head as she considered what she was feeling. Sadness, pain, loss. She had felt those emotions, too, from Andrea, although she had not understood at the time. It was during that time when she had lost her first husband, and although he had cheated on her several times, she had loved him deeply. She had mourned his loss.

"College. Is that the same as University?" Miranda asked.

"Yes. I was an English major and minored in journalism," Andrea answered.

"And your parents had died in 1998?" Miranda asked. She remembered her own pain mingling with Andrea's emotions. When she had seen flashes of Andrea's life, it hadn't made sense to her. Some sort of crash.

"They were in a car accident. It was horrible," Andrea answered softly, pain radiating through Miranda as the memories flashed through her mind. "I remember you were dealing with a loss, too..."

"My first husband was killed in the second war," Miranda revealed before changing the subject. "I have never driven in a car, although I have seen them in London. Horrid things. They travel so quickly, and it astounds me how people control them manually," Miranda said. She thought it absurd that people did not use magic to control them. No wonder these horrible accidents occurred and lives were lost.

"Well, how do you get around when you aren't walking?" Andrea asked.

"Apparation, portkeys, the floo system, or riding a broom," Miranda answered, realizing that all these modes of transportation would be unknown to a Muggle.

"Wait. You ride a broom? I thought that was just some made up story for witches," Andrea said, laughing.

Miranda huffed. "Yes, well, a Muggle saw a witch riding one in 1898, and the wizarding community failed to erase that memory from the observer's mind. Two years later he had his book published, the _Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ I believe it was called, and the truth came out. Thankfully, most people assumed he had made up the whole thing," Miranda said casually as she walked around her flat, turning on lights and starting a fire to warm up.

"That's incredible. So, wait, if that's true, then I bet a bunch of other things are too. Do you have dragons? The Loch Ness monster? Big Foot?" Andrea said excitedly.

Sighing, Miranda shook her head as she sank into her favorite seat. "Yes to all three, although they are known by other names. Now, let me ask you some questions. When did you first realize we had this connection?" Miranda had entertained this question since their last conversation.

"I, I don't know. Middle school maybe. But, no it must have been longer than that because I always felt like there was someone with me. Always," Andrea said thoughtfully.

"Hmmm, I was twenty-five. I know this because I was conducting some studies at work, and I felt a blast of energy hit me. It didn't hurt, but it immobilized me for several minutes. My colleagues didn't know what to do. By the time I woke up, I was at St. Mungo's, and the Healers could find nothing wrong with me." _And since that day your presence has comforted me_, Miranda didn't add, although she knew it to be true.

"Oh, shit!" Andrea exclaimed, and Miranda saw a flash of a small flat and through the bedroom door a scruffy young man. "Nate! I thought you'd be later. Um, how was your day?" Andrea asked as scruffy boy came closer.

Miranda scrunched up her nose as she smelled garlic and what smelled like greasy fried potatoes. She felt wetness on her lips and scratchy hair on her cheek for a moment. "For goodness sake, Andrea! Can't you let him paw you later? Does the boy never shave?" Miranda groused.

"Nate, sweetie, I was just about to finish typing out my article. I'm sorry, but I'll need some more time," Andrea lied. Not that Miranda minded at all. She found herself wanting to talk to Andrea more. Before yesterday, their connection had felt comforting, but now an added complexity, a new texture had become part of their bond, and she found it enticing.

"Andrea," Miranda said softly, even though she knew no one but Andrea would hear her, "we can talk later. Tomorrow, same time?"

"Yes, so um, are you working the same hours tomorrow?" Andrea asked brightly.

"No, I'm working the night shift. You know, two to closing," Nate answered. Miranda saw a flash of hair liberally sprinkled over a muscular chest. "I'm gonna take a shower. I brought home your favorite dish from the restaurant. Eat it before it gets cold."

"Okay," Andrea sing-songed before saying in a low voice, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Miranda."

"Very well. Good night, Andrea," Miranda said and severed their connection.

Sitting in front of the fire, Miranda thought about all that had occurred in the last forty-eight hours. Her discussion with Minerva, the discovery of her link with Andrea, the meeting to plan the capture of the Deatheaters. She smirked as she remembered what she had seen yesterday when she had fire-called Minerva. And tonight at the meeting, she could practically see a physical cord between the two witches, binding them. They were constantly smiling and touching each other. Small gestures, but anyone who knew them understood a drastic change in their relationship had occurred. And Miranda had seen proof firsthand, a passionate embrace.

She was happy for her friend, and she had gone so far as to congratulate her.

"You'll be sure to invite me to the wedding?" Miranda had whispered at the end of the meeting as she leaned in for a hug.

Minerva had smiled as they pulled back and whispered back, her green eyes twinkling, "Miranda, you'll be no less than my matron of honour."

Miranda's eyes had widened in surprise as she had looked from Minerva to Hermione and back to her friend, her eyebrows rising as she realized how serious she was. "Minerva, I, of course! Of course. We'll talk soon." She then had stepped toward Hermione and delivered air kisses to her. "And I believe we will be talking soon, too."

Smiling devilishly, she had stepped away and into the floo, laughing as she heard Hermione say anxiously to Minerva, "Oh my God! She wants to talk to me? Why does she want to talk to me?!"

Miranda knew her persona at work was very different than who she was in her personal life, much like Minerva. They were both strong women. Over the years, Miranda has heard the different monikers used for her: the Ice Queen, Dragon Lady, Brain Squint. But that wasn't who she was. It amused her to think Hermione hadn't realized that, yet. She would soon enough, though. Minerva was her closest friend, and she had a feeling that Hermione would be playing a much more prominent part in both their lives.

She looked around her living room and frowned. It did not look very inviting. She spent most of her time at work or traveling for work. When had she become that person who had no personal life? She used to love collecting unusual items and displaying them proudly, hosting dinner parties for her friends, family, and colleagues to share them. After her second marriage had ended so badly with a very public breakup, Miranda had licked her wounds and buried herself in her work. That year, it had seemed as if her entire life had changed, and she had given up on love.

Rising from her seat, Miranda moved to her display case and opened it. She fingered her favorite piece, a bust sculpture of a young witch. Tilting her head, Miranda studied it. Now that she knew who Andrea was, she thought of the memories from past years, flashes of a younger girl with freckles, a wide smile, dark eyes, and long hair. This sculpture was reminiscent of a younger Andrea. Lovely. Innocent. Happy.

Not that Andrea seemed so happy nowadays. She was with that scruffy boy, Nate, but she could sense her discontent. She doubted the boy was good enough for Andrea. A sense of possessiveness flowed through her, and she blinked with surprise. Why should she care who Andrea was with? It was her life to do with as she wished. Maybe she just needed more details on how they had met. No doubt Andrea would tell her how he was her high school sweetheart and they planned to get married, buy a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and have children. She scoffed.

Well, then, she would simply find out more about Andrea. She had researched her professional life, but she knew little outside of that. No doubt she would be plied with questions, particularly since Andrea would not have access to information regarding the wizarding world. Strangely, Miranda was not bothered by that thought. Normally, she had little patience for questions about her life, as Rita Skeeter had learned the hard way. Andrea, though, she was different. Feeling a ball of warmth spread through her, Miranda accepted that Andrea was the exception to many rules.

Closing the display case, Miranda walked around, straightening up. Perhaps this weekend she would take some time to make changes in her home. Spend more time in her own space, and leave her work at the Ministry. Friday they would infiltrate the Deatheaters' stronghold, and once she finished her paperwork, the weekend would be hers to do with as she pleased. Normally, she would work, but not this weekend. This weekend she would dedicate to herself.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Kicking off her shoes, Andy slumped down on her worn out futon. Nate was leaving. He told her today that he had traveled to Boston while she was on assignment in Rhode Island, and he had interviewed for a sous-chef position. The fact that he had lied to her, done all of this behind her back, that was what hurt the most. He wanted to remain friends, and she believed that once they worked through the reasons why he had felt he needed to hide what he was doing, they could be friends. And he was right; they weren't in love. Their arrangement was based on comfort and habit. She would miss him, but not with the aching need she would feel if she were in love with him.

He was leaving on Friday, just two days away. What really hurt her though, more than his duplicity, was that her closest friends had known and not warned her. What kind of friends did that?!

"Andrea?"

Gasping, Andy placed a hand over her heart and she tried to calm herself. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she had forgotten about Miranda. For the last few days, they had talked for hours. Although reserved at first, Miranda had warmed up to her and answered Andy's endless questions. Andy found the wizarding world fascinating.

"Andrea, what's wrong?" Miranda asked. Andy could feel concern radiating through their connection. "Did something happen?"

"Yes. Nate told me that he is moving to Boston in two days to take a new job," Andy said with a sigh.

After a pregnant pause, Miranda said, "I am sorry, Andrea. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Or, I will be. We haven't really been in love for a long time. But he's been a good friend, and I'll miss his presence," Andy admitted.

"I see. Will you need to find a new flatmate?" Miranda asked.

"Nah. I make enough money," Andy sighed. "I just don't appreciate that he did this behind my back. You know?"

"I do. Both my husbands cheated on me, and I have found it tough to trust others as a consequence," Miranda said.

Shaking her head, Andy said, "That's terrible. And so stupid. How could anyone want to cheat on you. You're, you're beautiful, and intelligent, and elegant, and courageous, and witty. And you have so many other wonderful attributes. I don't get it."

"Yes, well, I was also married to my job, arrogant, impatient, and uninterested. I made mistakes, and my pride prevented me from admitting those mistakes or making the changes necessary to save those relationships," Miranda admitted.

"You're not like that," Andy objected. Their conversations had given her great insight into Miranda's personality and thought process. She was so sharp and witty, yet caring and kind, too.

"No, but I was. I may not have been the sole cause for the breakdown in my marriages, but I certainly contributed. I did not pay enough attention, and once I realized how tenuous my connections had become, I did nothing to save the relationship. Either time."

Fascinated by how open Miranda was being, Andy said, "You just hadn't found the right person. When you do, you'll do anything to be with that person, to make him happy. And you will be happy just by being near him. I want that for you, Miranda. You deserve happiness."

"Or woman," Miranda said. "I do not believe that happiness is necessarily found through the opposite sex. In fact, my closest friend has found her soulmate in a witch. She had loved her for years, but it wasn't until recently that she revealed her feelings, and they have been inseparable since."

Although surprised, Andy admired how open-minded Miranda was. She had wondered how the wizarding world viewed same-sex relationships. She wished her society would adopt their thinking.

"I'm happy for them. Is that your friend, Minerva?" Andy asked.

"Yes. She is my closest friend," Miranda said, and Andy felt her affection for her friend warm her.

"Do you work together?" Andy asked. Miranda had dodged her questions about her profession, although she had been forthcoming with other parts of her life.

"No. She is the headmistress for our wizarding school in Scotland," Miranda answered.

"Huh. Like a principal in our schools? She's in charge of the school's administration and classes?"

"Yes, although I'd dare say that Hogwarts is much different than a school with no magic," Miranda said.

"And her love, is she a professor?" Andy asked.

"No, she works at the Ministry with me, although we are in different departments."

"The Ministry? Is that the government?" Andy asked, intrigued. "Are you a politician?" It would make sense. Miranda was so regal and intelligent, Andy could see others following her lead.

A soft chuckle made Andy smile. "Hardly. I work in a department that is comparable to your CIA, although one arm of my department is filled with scientists instead of operatives. We conduct confidential research. What I do is classified for my protection as well as for those who work with me. Hermione works in a department that is a combination of police enforcement and justice facilities. She was named the Deputy Head last year, which is the second highest position within her branch, quite an achievement for someone so young. She is only a few years older than you are, but no one would dare object, particularly since she was one of the main reasons we defeated Voldemort in the second war."

"So, if you don't work in law enforcement, why are you part of the team that is going after those dangerous wizards tomorrow?" Andy asked. She didn't like the thought of Miranda being in danger. Miranda had shed more light on what a Deatheater was, relating to Andy her upcoming mission.

"I know how to take care of myself, Andrea. Remember, I fought in two wars," Miranda said in a soothing voice.

"What, is that a sculpture of me?" Andy asked as she saw her likeness on a shelf.

"Hmmm, it does look like you, doesn't it? I noticed the similarity a few days ago. I purchased it many years ago. Perhaps you know the artist? Matilda Ancle."

"My aunt made that?" Andy felt her eyes fill with tears. "Why didn't I know that?" she murmured. Her aunt had died fifteen years ago after receiving much acclaim for her sculptures. Andy had never seen this one, though.

"She was your aunt?" Miranda asked, surprise clear in her voice. "It is clear how much she loved you. It is a beautiful piece."

"Yes. I loved her so much," Andy said. She looked up to see compassionate eyes staring at her through a mirror. Her breath caught as she gazed through her tears.

"Go to the mirror, Andrea. I wish to see you," Miranda directed softly.

Andy got up and crossed her small apartment to the bathroom. She turned on the light and looked into the mirror while swiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I am so emotional. I guess there's just so much going on."

"More than what we have discussed tonight?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah. My article about that informant came out today. I'm scared, Miranda," Andy admitted. "There are some really dangerous people out there who would love to shut me up."

"Hmm. Won't law enforcement protect you?" Miranda asked.

"I suppose. I have a detail watching my apartment and my work. But, Nate is staying at our friend's apartment, and I am all alone," Andy said.

"You are not alone. I am here. If I could, I would cast a protection spell to keep you safe," Miranda said, her eyes reflecting sincerity. Andy watched as she tilted her head in thought. "I have some connections in the States. I could send someone to protect you, Andrea."

"Oh, don't go to any trouble for me," Andy said, although she desperately wanted to accept the offer. She trusted Miranda.

"One of the perks of my position is knowing the right people," Miranda said with a smirk.

"Thank you, Miranda." Andy smiled, feeling a palpable relief. She could also feel Miranda's emotions, the strength of her desire to protect Andy.

"Right. Well. You are welcome," Miranda said as she touched the back of her neck. A small flush climbed up her neck and stained her alabaster cheeks, making Andy smile. She frowned in the next moment when Miranda turned away from her mirror and walked into her living room. "I will contact you once I have contacted my people and made the proper arrangements."

Andy sighed. She removed her clothing and turned on the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe her frazzled nerves. Feeling the water sluicing over her long locks, Andy felt immensely better. She took her time, washing her hair and body as her mind jumped around aimlessly.

"Andrea."

Looking up at the shower door, she could see her reflection, slightly distorted by the hot water. In her mind's eye, she watched Miranda's eyes turn a stormy blue before she turned away from her mirror. Andy could feel a maelstrom of emotions bombard her, but she had no time to process them as Miranda said, "Two agents will be coming to you any minute. They will knock three times and say the word, 'Shoestring.' They will protect you. I am sorry I cannot come to you myself."

"You'd do that?" Andy asked as she hurriedly turned off the water and opened the shower door to step out. Reaching for a towel, she glanced up into the mirror, freezing for a moment as she felt desire roar through her. Pulling a towel around her, she turned and leaned against the sink, feeling weak-kneed.

"I would, but I cannot get away now," Miranda spoke in a strained voice.

"I know, Miranda. You have that mission tomorrow. Please be careful. I don't have anyone I can send to you," Andy said lightly, although she felt rather helpless.

"Don't fret, Andrea," was Miranda's tender reply. Andy's breath caught.

Hearing three knocks and the password, Andy looked down at herself in dismay. She ran into her room and pulled on a robe as she made her way to the door. Opening it, she saw a man and a woman wearing business attire. She stepped aside and ushered them in.

"We were sent here to protect you. One of us will remain in the hallway and the other in front of the building. If we see anyone who seems suspicious, we will appear in your apartment to protect you. I'm Jones. That's Williams. In twelve hours, two others will be assigned to you. Please let us know if you need anything." Without another word, they left the apartment, the door closing softly behind them.

Walking back into her bedroom, Andy slipped on a pair of boyshorts and an old, ratty college sweatshirt. It was her favorite, and she always felt better when she wore it. "Thank you, Miranda," Andy said softly. "It's late, though. Shouldn't you get some rest so that you aren't too tired for your mission?"

"Yes. I should," Miranda agreed, and Andy could feel how Miranda wanted to keep talking to her.

"Please contact me once you return home. Let me know you're safe. Okay?" Andy asked as she slipped into bed.

"I will. Sleep well."

"And you," Andy said just as softly, closing her eyes and sighing as she felt Miranda slip under her own sheets. And if she wished for just a moment that the enticing witch was lying next to her, she ignored it, even though it seemed more plausible as each day passed that Miranda might yearn for her presence, too.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Sleet hit Miranda's face repeatedly as she flew toward the Deatheaters' stronghold. She held her broom steady, eyes constantly sweeping around her to make sure they would not be surprised by an attack. To her left flew Minerva and Hermione, to her right flew Potter and Weasley. Behind her were four Aurors. They were two minutes out, navigating high winds over the Atlantic Ocean.

Yesterday, Potter and Weasley had completed a reconnaissance mission to determine the best way to approach the hideout, any defensive charms in effect that would hamper their efforts, and the total number of Voldemort's followers they would be capturing. Johnson and McClellen certainly had others helping them, and they were determined to get them all.

Seeing the small island up ahead, Miranda prepared herself for the ensuing battle. She had no doubt that once they were spotted, they would have to act quickly. The cover of night would only provide them with so much of an advantage. As agreed, they landed on different parts of the island, some disarming the defensive spells and alarms, while others cast an anti-disapparation jinx and several other spells to prevent the outlaws from a quick escape.

Determined, Miranda ran toward the stronghold, gripping her wand tightly before her while thinking of several spells she could use. At Potter's nod, Weasley pointed his wand at the entrance and shouted, "_Bombarda Maxima_!"

As the door blew open, Potter, Weasley and two Aurors rushed into the hideout while Miranda covered the front entrance with the other two Aurors. Minerva and Hermione were at the rear part of the structure in case anyone attempted to escape out a back exit. Shouts and bright light filled the sky as several duels broke out. Three men rushed through the front entrance, and Miranda quickly aimed as she yelled, "_Everte Statum_!" She watched with satisfaction as the lead wizard was hurled backward into the other two wizards. They quickly cast a shielding spell as Miranda and the other Aurors cast several offensive spells.

So focused was Miranda on punching through the magical shield, she did not see a witch sprint through the unforgiving sleet from the west end of the structure. Miranda yelled, "_Partis temporus_," to create a gap through the magical barrier just as she heard, "_Stupefy_!" She flew backward, and the last thing she heard before blackness claimed her was Andrea's voice screaming her name.

* * *

After talking to Miranda several hours ago, Andy had tried to work on her next article. Unable to focus on it for more than a few minutes at a time, though, Andy found herself pacing. She was worried about Miranda. No matter what the witch said, Andy knew the mission was dangerous, had felt Miranda's trepidation. They could only plan for so much, and those outlaws, _Deatheaters_, would do anything to escape, including killing those in their way.

It terrified Andy.

To finally know what all those visions, all those feelings, meant, to know they were actually Miranda's experiences, Miranda's emotions, made her feel undeniably close to the older woman. They shared a bond, an intimacy that grounded her, enticed her, excited her.

Even though they had only known definitively of each other's existence for a week, she felt closer to Miranda than to any other person she knew. They spoke every day for hours, sometimes several times a day, and Andy could not deny that her fascination and affection for Miranda were different than the feelings normally felt for a friend or family member.

She felt attraction. Desire. Yearning.

Although Miranda had blocked many of her questions the first few days they had spoken, she eventually had opened up and was forthcoming with details of her life, particularly as Andy brought up different memories she had experienced of Miranda's life. It amazed Andy how strong Miranda was; she had suffered many losses in her life, dealt with strife and betrayal, failure and disappointment. Yet, throughout all her experiences, her inner strength, moral compass, and unwavering loyalty had steered her through all those challenges. And somehow Miranda's strength had helped Andy through some of the worst parts of her life. No matter what happened, she had always felt an unflagging sense that she would not only survive but overcome whatever life threw at her.

As they had become closer, Miranda had stopped blocking Andy from seeing what she saw and feeling what she felt throughout her day. Andy now knew of her melancholy and her unhappiness. And yet, each day Miranda felt lighter and happier. Andy easily recognized her changing emotions since Andy felt the same way. Hope had blossomed in her heart. She looked forward to each day, knowing she had her connection with Miranda to bolster her. Even Nate's impending departure could not pull her down. She was looking toward the future, and with Miranda in it, she knew she had infinite possibilities ahead of her.

Last night they had lain in bed, talking about the future. Miranda wanted Andy to leave New York City until the drug cartel was disbanded and Andy was no longer in danger. She had oh so casually mentioned that she had plenty of room in her townhouse to host visitors on holiday, and she would feel better knowing Andy was nearby. Smiling, Andy felt her heart swell. Miranda may normally be one to hide her feelings behind an icy veneer with others, but Andy could easily interpret the strong emotions she felt emanating from the powerful witch. Andy's feelings were not unreciprocated.

Stopping mid-pace, Andy fell on her back as she felt a sudden blast of energy push into her chest. "Miranda," she screamed before blacking out.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Jones peering at her from her crouched position as she lowered her wand. "Are you all right?" she asked.

As Jones helped her sit up, Andy placed a hand over the back of her head and winced. A bump was rising, probably the result of when she fell to the floor. She wondered how long she was out. "Yes. I don't know what happened."

"I heard you shout, and I came in immediately. You were knocked out. I didn't see anyone else here, though. Did you see anything?" she asked as her partner joined them, handing over a glass of water and, strangely, a large piece of chocolate.

"No," Andy replied after she drank some of the water. Nibbling on the chocolate, she tried to contact Miranda, but she still couldn't feel anything. It worried her. "Um, thanks for helping me. I'm fine now."

"Let me just take care of that bump." Before Andy could ask what he meant, Williams raised his wand and said, "Episky."

Relief washed over Andy as the pain radiating from the back of her head abated. Touching the area gingerly, she was happily surprised to feel the bump was gone. "Thank you. I feel a lot better."

"Brilliant. We'll be outside, then. If you need anything, just let us know," Williams said. They left without another word, and Andy exhaled loudly.

As the minutes became hours, she became increasingly agitated. _Where is Miranda? Why won't she answer me?_ After another hour of completing only a measly paragraph on her article and wearing away the carpet with more pacing, Andy made a salad before putting on some music. She needed something to distract her. Miranda had promised to contact her once the mission was complete, and three hours had passed since she had been hit with that energy blast.

"Andrea," Miranda's voice called in a sultry whisper.

Andy jumped up and ran to the bathroom so she could see the witch. As soon as she saw Miranda, she nearly swooned. Miranda was not wearing her usual heavy robe. Instead, she wore a fitted ivory Oxford shirt with the top three buttons undone, showing mouthwatering cleavage and the top of black lingerie. Running her eyes downward, Andy grabbed at the vanity to remain upright. Miranda wore no pants. If only the shirttails didn't fall over the top of toned thighs, hiding what Andy was sure were matching panties.

"Miranda! Are you all right? I was so worried!" Andy said breathlessly, leaning against the sink as her eyes ravenously drank in Miranda's form.

"Yes, darling. I was stunned by one of the Deatheaters, but we caught everyone. No need to worry," Miranda drawled as she stared at Andy.

Feeling self-conscious, Andy remembered that she was only wearing a tank top and boyshorts, her usual bedtime clothing. Looking back in the mirror, she noticed how Miranda's attention affected her body. In her mind's eye, she could see Miranda's slightly glazed eyes. "You seem tired," Andy said as her pulse sped up.

"Yes," she sighed. "And yet, I find myself rather restless, perhaps from all the excitement. I drank some firewhiskey with Minerva and Hermione in celebration of our victory, but even that has not helped to expend all this excess energy," Miranda said, her fingers playing at her shirt opening provocatively.

"I can feel that. Your energy," Andy said as heat rolled through her. She could see Miranda's darkening eyes, and she watched, mesmerized, as Miranda slowly unbuttoned her shirt, letting it drop behind her. Miranda's lingerie was lacy and delicate, certainly not a barrier to Andy's searching gaze. Breathing in deeply, she could smell Miranda's excitement, mixed in with a floral scent. Andy stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, slowly running her hands up her chest and cupping her breasts.

"Mmm, Andrea, come to bed. I want to feel you," Miranda moaned.

Without answering, Andy left the bathroom and pulled off her tank top as she slipped into bed. She could hear a song on the radio in the background, something bluesy and raw, adding texture to the moment. Closing her eyes, she slowly ran her fingers through her hair, tangling them and puling lightly at the roots. Miranda's answering groan spurred her on, and she touched her forehead, nose, cheeks, and jaw slowly before sliding her fingers over her collarbones.

"Miranda, I want to feel you, too. Let me feel you," Andy groaned. Her fingers stalled as she felt lithe fingers travel over silky skin and a toned abdomen. Miranda was touching herself.

Andy looked down at her hands as she moved them down her chest and cupped her breasts again, lifting them to watch as she manipulated her hardened nipples. Desire roared through her, and she felt her body tremble, throbbing with need. She could see Miranda removing her barely-there bra and panties, and Andy nearly came undone as she viewed Miranda's flawless body flushed with desire and felt hands running over those toned thighs in nonsensical patterns.

"Andrea, I can feel you," Miranda moaned. "You are exquisite. Touch yourself for me, darling. I need to feel more."

Not needing any more incentive, Andy ran her hands over her hips and legs, moving in to lightly cup herself through her panties. She quickly removed them before spreading her nether lips. She was so wet! She imagined Miranda's hands touching her as stormy eyes devoured every inch of her body. Miranda's whispered words, telling how much she desired her, pushed her higher and higher. Andy propped herself against several pillows so that she could watch herself, knowing that Miranda could see what she saw.

As Andy touched herself lightly, she watched Miranda's hands playing in her own wetness. And she felt it. She felt Miranda's desire, her need, her lust. Her fingers felt the viscous fluid, the proof of Miranda's excitement, as they circled her opening. She felt her as she thrust against her hand, and Andy cried out at how good it felt.

"Andrea, do you feel me? It's because of you. I feel this way because of you. I feel you. Your hands all over me. I feel you making love to me," Miranda said, her husky voice flowing over Andy as she touched herself more deliberately in response, driving herself toward orgasm through the strength of her feelings for Miranda.

Closing her eyes tightly, Andy flung one hand out to grab her sheets, needing to ground herself somehow. As she withdrew her other hand from inside herself and stroked her clitoris, she felt Miranda's hand clasp her outstretched hand, their fingers intertwining. Andy had a hard time distinguishing who was touching whom, and her body raced toward her climax as Miranda continued to whisper to her in between sexy moans and needy groans.

"Miranda, I wish you were here. I need you so much," Andy cried out, just moments away from falling over the edge of sanity into a world of pure feeling. She saw a flash of bright light through her fluttering eyelids and heard a crack of thunder as she visualized Miranda's beautiful body moving in sync with hers.

"I am here, Andrea," Miranda said strongly as she squeezed Andy's hand. Keening, Andy climaxed, feeling Miranda's hands on her, in her, holding her. "I am here." Miranda's voice mingled with hers, and she felt the witch's orgasm rip through her, prolonging her own.

As her heartbeat slowed down, Andy opened her eyes, falling into bright blue eyes. "Miranda," she whispered reverently.

"Andrea, darling," Miranda murmured, peppering Andy's face with kisses.

Wrapping her arms around Miranda's body, afraid she would disappear, Andy asked, "How are you here?"

"I don't know exactly. If I were to guess, I would say it was—"

"Magic," they finished the thought simultaneously. As Andy gazed at Miranda, she smiled broadly, and they chuckled softly.

"I'm so glad," Andy said. She could feel Miranda's body resting on her, her leg between Andy's and their breasts pressed together. She gasped as she fully realized that Miranda was with her, her fingers still inside Andy. "Kiss me," she whispered, feeling need rise within her.

Nearly weeping with joy as soft lips brushed her own, Andy ran her hands down a muscular back before squeezing rounded buttocks and grinding against Miranda. She heard Miranda growl low in her throat as she felt passion shoot through her. She was unsure whether the feeling stemmed from herself or Miranda, but it hardly mattered. Miranda thrust her fingers deeper into Andy, moving her fingers slowly in and out as she made love to Andy's mouth, her fingers copying her tongue's movements.

They moved together as if they had been lovers for years, knowing where to touch and how to bring the most pleasure to each other. Andy could feel her body tightening as it spiraled toward another release. She slipped her hand between them, entering Miranda as she sucked on Andy's neck.

"Andrea," Miranda whispered, "my sweet Andrea." Speeding up their movements, they kissed breathlessly before Miranda rested her forehead against Andy's shoulder.

"Miranda, you feel incredible. I can't believe you're here. Ohhhh," Andy moaned as Miranda hit that sweet spot inside her. "Ahhh," she cried out, her eyes closing tightly as wave after wave of ecstasy tossed her around.

"Andreeeeaaaa," Miranda howled, her body moving in jerky motions against Andy, pushing Andy into another orgasm. They kept moving together, fingers thrusting and bodies gyrating as they felt what the other was experiencing even as they enjoyed their own body's responses.

Panting, Andy tried to catch her breath as her body recovered from the intense climaxes they had shared. Trembling, Andy kissed Miranda's forehead, smiling as Miranda pulled back a bit so they could share a chaste kiss. "I'm so glad you're here," Andy said softly.

"As am I," Miranda answered tenderly, her eyes shining. Andy pouted as Miranda removed her fingers, and Miranda smirked. "Don't fret, Andrea. We will be indulging quite often, I assure you. You are delectable." She frowned as Andy withdrew her fingers, and Andy grinned.

"Yes, we will be. You are quite addictive yourself," Andy replied. Miranda slid to Andy's side, keeping one leg between Andy's while wrapping an arm around her waist. Andy sighed with contentment, running her fingers through Miranda's hair hypnotically.

Half-asleep and well-relaxed, Andy nearly missed Miranda's words when she whispered, "Come back with me."

Blinking several times, Andy's heartbeat picked up as she thought about Miranda's request. She knew enough about Miranda to recognize that she would not ask without having thought it through to some extent. When she had mentioned her townhouse to Andy as a place to stay if she vacationed in London, Andy had known that the offer meant more than simple lodging. Looking closely at Miranda, she saw the intense emotion, felt it reaching out to her to wrap around her heart.

"I love you," Miranda said solemnly, and Andy felt her heart pulse forcefully in answer.

"I love you, too," Andy said, tears welling in her eyes. Soft fingers wiped them away. "I looked into the London publications," Andy continued softly. "The publishing group that owns the _New York Mirror_ has several publications there. I could float my resume..."

Miranda's full smile silenced Andy. She was stunning. "I will help you, darling. I have many contacts. Not that you have to work. I can provide for us both. At the very least, you have no need to feel any stress with finding a new place to write. We will make sure you find employment in a place where you will be appreciated and your skills can be best utilized." A large crack of thunder preceded Jones rushing into the bedroom.

"They're here. Williams is stalling them, but you should go," Jones said urgently. She turned away as Miranda and Andy jumped out of the bed. Miranda muttered some words, and Andy's eye widened as they both became clothed in black trousers and sweaters.

"_Accio_ my wand," Miranda said, holding out her hand as an ebony wand flew to her and striding briskly into the living room where Jones waited. She swirled it in a peculiar fashion as she muttered words under her breath. Andy watched in awe as her suitcases and traveling bags marched before them and became filled efficiently with her clothes and toiletries. Boxes filled with books, journals, and writing paraphernalia. Soon, all was packed, shrunk, and placed into a satchel. "Andrea, do you want any of your furniture?"

"No. Each either came with the place or we bought the pieces at yard sales. I have no attachment to any of it," Andy answered as she looked around once more. A hand rubbing her back comfortingly caused Andy to look into eyes filled with affection.

"I am sorry this is so rushed, darling, but we should go," Miranda said.

Just as they moved toward the door, they heard gunshots, and Andy screamed as the door was pushed in, two men rushing them. One raised his gun at her while the other directed a semiautomatic at Miranda. As if in slow motion, Andy raised her hands to shield them as she jumped in front of Miranda and shouted, "No!" She felt energy surge through her and heat erupted from her fingers, striking both men in the chest and knocking them out cold as several bullets ricocheted off an invisible barrier. In the ensuing silence, Andy stared at her hands, unable to comprehend what she had just done. Strong arms pulled her into a hug, and she realized she was shaking violently as soothing hands rubbed circles across her back.

"You are astounding. So brave. So ridiculously courageous," Miranda whispered in her ear, and Andy started as she heard the break in her voice. Pulling back, she saw tears leak from the corners of Miranda's eyes before the witch captured her lips with a fierce kiss. When the kiss broke, she said roughly, "We're leaving." With a nod to Jones and to Williams, who had burst into the apartment right after Andy's inexplicable use of magic, she held out her hand to return the wand. Jones took it and handed her a locket. Miranda said softly, "That's all," as she opened it.

Andy barely had a chance to notice her picture inside the locket before Miranda pulled her closer. Andy felt a pulling sensation in her belly as her surroundings swirled together, making her dizzy.

"I've got you," Miranda murmured as Andy stumbled.

"What was that?" Andy asked as she looked around. "And where are we?"

"That was a portkey, and you are in my home. Our home," Miranda answered.

"But, don't we have to deal with the attack?" Andy asked.

"Jones and Williams will take care of everything," Miranda answered.

"Miranda?"

They both looked toward the hearth, where a green flame formed the outline of a woman's face.

"Minerva, I'm fine," Miranda groused.

"I'll be the judge of that! I'm coming over," Minerva declared.

"Me, too," Andy heard in the background as Miranda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Two women dressed in robes similar to what Andy had seen Miranda wear walked through the fireplace, although the taller witch's robe was a forest green and the other witch's robe a wine-red color. A wave of the older witch's hand removed black soot from their clothes.

"Please, do come in," Miranda said dryly as she turned toward them.

"Oh! My apologies for interrupting," Minerva said in a Scottish brogue. The sparkle in her eyes belied her words.

The younger witch smacked her on the arm. "Minerva!" She turned to Andy and Miranda. "I do apologize. She was worried when she couldn't contact you. We feared you might have suffered an injury earlier and had failed to tell us. She was ready to storm the place, but I persuaded her to keep fire-calling you." She gazed at Andy. "We haven't met. I am Hermione Granger," she said with a gentle smile.

"Andy Sachs. Well, Andrea, but everyone calls me Andy. Except Miranda," Andy said nervously. Seeing Hermione's smile widen, she felt herself relax.

"You are Andrea Sachs?" Minerva asked, perplexed. "Miranda, how did she get here so quickly?"

"Portkey. I had one made and sent it to the operatives in the States when I realized she was in danger," Miranda said as she moved toward the fireplace. "Now, as much as I appreciate your concern, you can see we are safe and well. I promise we will talk more tomorrow. We are exhausted," she continued as she herded the two witches toward the fireplace.

"Tomorrow night we will have dinner, all four of us," Minerva said sternly.

"Very well. Off with you, then," Miranda said, leaning in for a quick hug with Minerva.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to spending more time getting to know you, Miss Sachs," Minerva said formally.

"Andy, please. And I you," Andy replied with a smile.

Hermione stepped forward and whispered, "She won't call you by your first name any time soon, but don't take it personally. It took her seventeen years to call me by my given name."

"Oh, hush, _Miss Granger_," Minerva said teasingly.

"See you tomorrow. It was a pleasure to meet you," Hermione said and followed Minerva after bidding Miranda farewell.

Just before Minerva stepped into the fireplace, she said lightly, "Have a good night, then."

Shaking her head, Miranda turned back to Andy. "It has been a long day, and I only want to fall asleep while holding you safely in my arms."

"That sounds perfect," Andy said. They gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment before Miranda took her hand and gently led her upstairs to a large, elegantly appointed master suite.

"Tomorrow I will show you around, and we can make plans for our future. For now, please believe me when I say that I am thrilled to have you here," Miranda said. "Come this way, darling, so we can take a shower."

"Miranda," Andy said. "How was I able to stop those bullets? We should have been shot."

"My guess is that once we consummated our bond, our connection allowed you to access my magic. Whether or not you have magic of your own is something we will want to determine. What made your use of magic remarkable is how you used an advanced shielding spell without any training," Miranda said as she disrobed and gently removed Andy's clothes. "Enough of that for now, Andrea," she said as she delivered a gentle kiss on Andy's cheek.

Nodding, Andy joined Miranda in the shower. Tomorrow they would discuss all the incredible events of this day. Tonight, though, Andy was content to fall asleep in Miranda's arms, knowing she would wake up tomorrow and each day thereafter beside the woman whose presence had comforted her for as long as she could remember. Somehow, they had forged a connection that had crossed continents, crossed worlds even, and pulled them together as if they were two parts of one soul. No matter what she ended up doing, she had no doubt that she would be happy.

As sure hands washed her hair, Andy hummed her approval. A wave of contentment surged through her, and looking into bright blue eyes, Andy smiled as she realized that she could not differentiate from whom the feeling stemmed. Their connection was so strong, each feeling reverberated through her, filling her completely.

"Andrea, I am so glad you are here," Miranda said as they finally slipped under the covers.

"I always have been, Miranda. It's just that today is the first day that we can feel each other in every way," Andy said, turning on her side to run her finger slowly over an aristocratic profile. "I love you, Miranda. Thank you for being a part of my life."

"Andrea," Miranda said in a low voice. "I will always be in your life. We are connected. When you hurt, I hurt. When you are happy, I am happy. I realize that we have much to discuss, but I cannot help but believe that we will be able to work through anything as long as we remain connected." She delivered a lingering kiss and said, "Get some sleep, darling. And, Happy Valentine's Day."

Smiling brightly, Andy closed her eyes, kissing Miranda's bare shoulder lovingly. She was looking forward to waking up with Miranda today, tomorrow, and the rest of their lives. She looked forward to each day of waking up with the other half of her heart, body, and soul.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

Two years later

Reading the last words of the article in the _Daily Prophet_, Minerva chuckled, greatly amused.

"And just what is so funny, _Headmistress_?" Hermione said softly as she leaned down for a kiss before plopping into a chair across from her.

"Miss Sachs's latest article—"

"Andy's," Hermione said pointedly.

"Yes, yes," Minerva waved her hand dismissively. "Andy's latest article about magical mishaps in London. She has quite the way with words. I particularly enjoyed her descriptions of how non-magical folks might react to magical events," Minerva said with a small smile. She took a sip from her tea.

"She is rather clever," Hermione agreed. "I am looking forward to today. Have you spoken to Miranda?"

"Yes. She is sickeningly happy. She is like another person since Andy came to London," Minerva said.

"I think it's wonderful. They deserve happiness," Hermione murmured before sipping tea from her own cup. "Andy is a quick learner, too. She's become quite good at spell-work, and she was inquiring about transfiguration."

"Really?" Minerva perked up. "Well, I might have some time to help her with that," she said absentmindedly, her mind buzzing through the various teaching plans she had from teaching the discipline for decades. Hermione soft chuckle redirected her thoughts back to her wife.

"You are adorable. I'm keeping you," Hermione said cheekily.

"Oh, you are, are you?" Minerva said, smiling coyly.

"Oh, yes. No one else can have you. You're mine, all mine," Hermione sing-songed with a bright smile.

"Yours, all yours," Minerva repeated definitively.

"Hello? Anyone around?" came from the fireplace.

"We're here, Andy," Hermione answered as she moved closer to the voice.

"Oh, great! Can I come over for a quick minute?" she asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered.

Minerva quirked her eyebrows as the younger woman walked through the flames and whispered a quick spell to remove the floo powder from her clothes.

"Is everything all right?" Minerva asked as she approached Andy.

"Yes, everything is fine, but I was wondering whether I could get your opinion on something," Andy said nervously.

"Of course," Hermione answered with a smile.

"Well, I was hoping to surprise Miranda with a special gift in celebration of today, but I fear I may have gotten in over my head," Andy said.

Miranda and Andy were marrying today, and Minerva could understand Andy's trepidation. Miranda was wealthy, powerful, and in love. She had everything she could ever desire.

"What's your idea?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I, well, I was hoping you could help me with that. I wanted to extract some of my memories from the first week we discovered our connection so she could watch them in a pensieve and see some of them in those moving pictures, but I haven't mastered those spells, yet," Andy said.

"We'll help you, dear," Minerva said. She was impressed with Andy's idea. Minerva owned a pensieve, passed down through the ages from Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts. Most did not know that the Department of Mysteries also housed a pensieve. And since it was Miranda who had studied and modified the properties of the magical stone bowl, she had one in her home. Miranda would cherish those memories, particularly since they would stem from Andy's mind. Even with their mind-body-soul connection, Miranda could not completely understand Andy's perspective of those events. This would bind them even more closely.

"Shall we do it now, then?" Minerva asked. At Andy's nod, Minerva directed her wand toward Andy's temple and said, "Think of the first memory you wish to transfer."

Minerva stored each memory from that time period in clear vials, labeling them with the applicable date. Next, Andy visualized different times to be pulled and used as photographs. Hermione took control of this part of the process, using spells that she had created specifically for such transfers. Minerva was amazed at how beautiful the images were. They were infused with Andy's feelings—each captured moment filled with texture, color, and complexity.

"She will love them," Hermione said as she finished the last image.

"Thank you so much!" Andy gushed.

"Hello. Anyone there?"

"Yes, Miranda. Shouldn't you be getting ready for your big day?" Minerva said, smirking at Hermione and Andy as the outline of Miranda's face came into view.

"Well, I am searching for my wayward bride," Miranda groused good-naturedly. "Ah. There you are."

With a wave of her hand, Minerva hid the fruit of their labors with a disillusionment charm. She smiled as Miranda walked through the flames.

"Hello," Miranda said as she leaned in to peck Andy's cheek. "What kind of trouble are you three brewing?" she teased, one eyebrow raised.

"I asked them to help me with a little something, and no I won't tell you until later, so you might as well let it go," Andy answered as she slid an arm around Miranda's waist.

Chuckling, Minerva added, "I do believe it is time for you both to get ready. What kind of matron of honour would I be if I allowed the bride to be late?"

"Quite right. I'll go back with Andy to prepare her while you help Miranda," Hermione piped in.

Minerva gazed at her better half, and nodded. She knew Hermione would take care of transferring Andy's gifts back to their home without Miranda's knowledge. She stepped forward to kiss her wife before saying, "Take good care of her, and we will see you soon." They smiled at each other before Hermione stepped away, following Andy through the flames.

"I could feel Andy's happiness while she was here. Whatever you did to help her, I am indebted to you," Miranda said softly.

"No more so than I am to you for kicking me in the arse and prodding me to let Hermione into my life completely. I've never been happier, and I dare say the same could be said of you," Minerva said.

"Yes. It amazes me that we both found happiness at virtually same time. It seems our lives are connected," Miranda mused.

Nodding, Minerva had to agree. Their lives were certainly interconnected. "Well, then," she said, sighing softly as she acknowledged she would not have it any other way. "Let's get you ready so that you can announce to the wizarding world your oath to be connected to your better half through marriage for the rest of your lives."

They smiled at each other as understanding flowed through them. Each day was a happy one, thanks to the connections they had created.

**A/N I hope you enjoyed the story. If you did, please take a moment to leave a comment. Thank you!**


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